


How do you know my name?

by vanhunks



Series: THE FRIENDSHIP BARRIER [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 1 "Caretaker" -  Those few days after the Array, when Starfleet and Maquis merged. That ready room scene where the germ of friendship was forged. Really? <br/>Anything or anyone that will threaten the growing friendship between Janeway and Chakotay will be dealt with…  With a budding friendship, no man -or thing] shall rend it asunder!</p>
            </blockquote>





	How do you know my name?

**Author's Note:**

> This vignette is the opening story of an ongoing series called "THE FRIENDSHIP BARRIER". All stories can be read as standalone pieces. "How do you know my name" kicks off with the conversation in Janeway's ready room [a scene never shown onscreen] and which has been the inspiration of many a great fanfic story.

* * *

Something happened in that moment when Janeway looked at the face of the leather clad Maquis cell leader with the scowling face and tattoo painted curled lines above his left eyebrow. Even from the bridge of Voyager she could smell the animal magnetism that exuded from him, as if between the two vessels nothing existed but just Chakotay and Janeway. Janeway recognised the danger, but suppressed it with the hard-as-nails exterior that had saved her from many a dangerous situation, especially when it involved the loss of control of her senses. Negotiate with a poker face, she'd been taught as she'd read the exploits of Kirk and other captains of the Federation.

And Chakotay looked at the woman who stood hands on her hips like some sun goddess. No, he corrected himself, not a sun goddess. Those queens didn't stand hands on their hips. They raised an imperious hand with long fingers and longer nails and their subjects prostrated themselves instantly. This woman dressed in Starfleet uniform wearing rank pips of the captain of the vessel might well have been a queen who controlled her subjects. Dressed in red of command with a stern poker face like every captain he had seen and served with she might well have raised her tiny hand and ordered him to genuflect. But he was not about to bow to her. Not by a long chalk, he promised himself.

Then she called him by his name.

And one forgotten designation.

How do you know my name? was his question, instantly scowling because she had a distinct advantage over him. He had never seen her before and he was damned certain if he knew her name, that it wouldn't ring any bells. But he was captain of his vessel; she commanded hers. He was Maquis; she was Starfleet. There could be no other purpose for her presence in the same square kilometre of his vessel than that she had come to capture him. He was not ready to be captured. Already he decided she could go to hell.

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway…"

"Go to hell, Janeway."

They were trapped in the Delta Quadrant with no quick way of getting home and attend his sister's wedding. The look on Janeway's face told him no one was going home anytime soon.

That look. Fear, aggression, negotiation all rolled into one. That look. It gave him the creeps and a fightback strategy.

Days later, after the Ocampa, after the destruction of the Array, after sabotaging the Kazon vessel by ramming his ship into it and transporting at the last possible moment to Voyager, after Torres looked like she wanted to kill Janeway and he had uncharacteristically defended her by threatening to kill the half-Klingon engineer, Janeway summoned him to her ready room.  

It was a very good thing they were separated by an elongated desk. He was no stranger to ready rooms, therefore he was not ready yet to succumb by genuflecting. She was every inch the captain and he was ready to fight.

"We are 75000 lightyears from Earth, Chakotay. We do this together or we die out here, eventually."

"It seems," he snapped instantly, "that I have little choice since I smashed up my ship to save this one."

She moved to say something, then seemed to rethink her response. He waited for her to speak. Then…

"What do you say, Chakotay?"

"Oh, I'll take my Maquis, find a friendly planet, steal a vessel and head for home. What about you?"

"That was heroic, Chakotay, destroying the Liberty. I am offering you a home on Voyager. We join our crews – "

He hated her that instant. Hated her. It was better than genuflecting.

He wasn't going to let her within a parsec of smelling he was as desperate as she was. Of all their options open to them, joining their crews and plotting a course for home was perhaps the best option. Hell, it was the only option. But…

"I am Maquis, Janeway. I don't fight clean. You might want to reconsider your offer."

Then Janeway repeated her question. She bristled with nervous energy, but he could see the total exhaustion in her whole demeanour. Fighting Kazon, helping a helpless race, dealing with the absence of key personnel who died as they were shunted into the Delta Quadrant, repairs to ship's systems, challenging an enraged half-Klingon - it was just the beginning and she looked fatigued. She needed sleep, she needed support, she needed the knowledge of his cooperation. It was not even worth investigating, joining their crews. They just had to do it.

He had her in a corner. He could negotiate her uniform off her body, that's how desperate she looked, though to give her credit, Kathryn Janeway did a good job of hiding her distress. 

"What will be my position on this ship, Captain?"

"My second-in-command – "

He remained staring her down, catching a glimpse of her uncertainty, very fleetingly exposed before the hardness, the poker-faced bargaining was back. She was Kirk, she was that bitch Nechayev who tried to bed him. Past masters as playing her game close to the chest.

Commander. It was better than he expected. For once she had the upper hand.

"Deal. On one condition."

"What is that?" Janeway asked, her stance more relaxed now that he'd agreed to throw in his lot with hers.

"I'll fight for key positions on Voyager for at least three of my crew."

Janeway gave a relieved laugh. "I'm surprised you didn't ask for all of them."

"Make no mistake, Janeway. I will hold you to that."

He knew she couldn't run her vessel with less than two thirds of her original crew. She needed the Maquis even though he remained her prisoner. But they had seventy five years to redefine their captor-captive status. He was suddenly looking forward to how their status would play out during their journey home.

Janeway walked round her desk for the first time since he entered the ready room. Damn! She was tiny and feisty. She reached to take his hand.

"Welcome aboard, Commander Chakotay."

"This could be the beginning of a great partnership, don't you think, Janeway?"

Her eyes turned flinty, her lips pursing as she tried to contain her irritation.

"We only just met, Commander and you want us to be best friends forever?"

"You have spunk, Janeway. I think I'm going to like you after all. That is as good a reason as any to lay a foundation on a sound working…relationship."

"We have to work together, that's all. It doesn't mean that I should like you. I don't."

"Why, thank you!"

"You're welcome."

Janeway glared at her new first officer. He had the audacity to grin. She was going to have a hell of a fight on her hands with him. She pictured the next seventy five years. Already Chakotay had the ability to rile her. How was she going to last that long?

Chakotay pictured the next seventy five years. He knew, as surely as his father's name was Kolopak, that the one thing that could prevent him from plunging backwards into the depths of a pair of blue-grey eyes was to hold fast on to the friendship. Friendship was going to be his saviour. Maybe hers, too.

******************** 

END


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